72

My cell phone alarm clock went off at six fifteen in the morning. I, who stayed awake even though sleep was trying to take everything from me, didn’t have much trouble getting out of bed and going to the kitchen to prepare a basic breakfast for Flynn and me. He, on the other hand, remained out for a long time, until the smell of scrambled eggs reached the room and he stuck himself in the bathroom for a moment later to come to meet me.

"Good morning, my dear," he hummed, surprising me with a hug from behind.

I couldn't help but feel stuck in a romantic comedy movie. Not even in my seven months adapting to the relationship with Cristiano could I experience half of the sensations that Flynn was awakening in my body. And he was masterfully managing to make every part of my heart choose to give himself to him, even though my head focused on not letting him take over my thoughts all the time. I would like to know if he felt the same way.

"Good morning, Mr. Ashton," I returned in a low voice